


daring gestures

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Cousy In Space, Dreams, F/M, First Kiss, Future Fic, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Spaceships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 11:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11920389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: Daisy and Coulson steal a spaceship, and she makes a confession to him.Written for the Cousy In Space event. Prompts: "Daisy and Phil steal a spaceship!!" and "Daisy tells Coulson about the time she dreamed about the two of them being the last people on Earth"





	daring gestures

“I guess I can cross _stealing a spaceship_ off my list now,” Daisy says, locking the door once they’re in. “I think you’re a bad influence.”

Coulson chuckles. “Technically you haven’t stolen it yet,” he complains.

“I don’t think a technicality is going to matter to those angry aliens outside this beauty.”

He runs one appreciative hand over the smooth surface of the hangar doors.

“Hey, settle down. Or I’ll tell Lola,” Daisy teases him.

He snorts.

Daisy guesses the doors will hold for a while, once she has changed the lock sequence. It’s still those dudes’ ship but tech is tech, there’s no shortcut. And she doubts they are going to want to get in by force and damage their precious ship.

Before she kneels down to figure out the controls Daisy takes a moment to look at Coulson’s face. The fresh bruises, she wants to reach out and touch his face.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he replies. “Someone had to take those punches while you were getting us inside.”

It was his plan in the first place, or rather his offer while Daisy tried to figure how to make _their_ plan work, but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel guilty about the purple under his eye. There was an alien with a pirate-like patch over one of its eyes and Daisy had worried it might want to extract symmetrical revenge on Coulson, but his face had stalled their pursuers admirably.

“Sorry,” she tells him, while she rips one of the panels under the control console. “I can normally multitask but… I needed both hands for it.”

“It’s okay, those guys punched like aliens,” Coulson jokes.

Daisy half-hears him, once she has detached the protective plastic tile from under the ship’s console. They have both been bait, pretend kidnap victim, played damsel in distress (or the equivalent for guys, in Coulson’s case, though Daisy knows there’s no equivalent, that’s the whole point of a damsel in distress) , they have both cheated and conned their way through this side of the galaxy, for weeks, ever since their daring escape from space prison.

“This doesn’t seem to be genetically locked, either,” Daisy points out, carefully pushing wires out of the way, so she can look at the circuitry behind. “We’re in luck.”

“Yeah, luck,” Coulson mutters.

Okay, it wasn’t luck, as Daisy had specifically selected the ship she knew had a multi-species crew, and one that looked a bit rough, not state-of-the-art. If the controls were locked gen-locked, they were screwed. But it they were just regularly locked to each individual member of the crew, well, Daisy could work with that. She told Coulson which crew they should shadow and pick up a fight with.

Coulson sits besides her, on the floor, even though the pilot and co-pilot chairs are right there. He watches her work. He lets out a little noise of weariness or pain, or something in between.

“You think you can hack into it?” he asks.

Daisy raises one eyebrow and he gives her an apologetic look.

“It’s me,” she says. “It’ll take… three minutes?”

Coulson leans back against the wall. “This is what you do,” he says, and it’s meant to be encouraging.

Daisy, cross-legged, twists a couple of wires together with her fingers, her hand then going up, distractedly, to her naked neck. Something about this feels familiar and it suddenly clicks for her.

“What is it?” Coulson asks, noticing her blank expression.

Daisy doesn’t immediately answer. 

“Daisy?”

“Sorry,” she replies. She still looks shaken. “It’s just that… I dreamed about this.”

“About _this_?”

She doesn’t dare look at his eyes.

Daisy always hides her nightmares from the world - she wasn’t sure this one was a nightmare when it happened, but every dream is a nightmare if it’s one where she can’t save Coulson. And perhaps at the time, or more precisely right afterwards, she had felt embarrassed and guilty, worrying about Coulson in dreams when her own boyfriend was about to die in reality.

“Well, not exactly this. Something like this. It wasn’t a ship, we were in a pod and we were on Maveth and I was trying to get us back to Earth. I was working on a panel, it was so much like this.”

“ _We_ were?”

“Yeah,” she says, lowering her voice. “It was just you and me. But it turned out we already were on Earth. We were the last survivors.”

She can hear Coulson shifting in his seat.

“You dreamed you and me were the last two people on Earth?”

Daisy turns to look at him again, rolling her eyes a bit.

“Not _like that_.”

Coulson’s smile is sheepish, almost smug. It’s funny and it distracts her a bit, it relaxes her a bit, and she can focus on the job at hand better.

“And in that dream… did you manage to fix the panel?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “I woke up before that.”

“I’m sure you’d have gotten it,” he says.

Daisy nods, her fingers moving even before her glance goes back to the panel.

A minute later - she’s gone a bit over the predicted three, but remembering the dream had slowed her down - she thinks the controls are ready, or as ready as they’ll be. 

She stands up, helping Coulson get to his feet too.

“I think this is it,” she says.

“Do you need anything else?” he asks her, taking the co-pilot’s place, looking at the alien controls both puzzled and amazed.

“Nah, I just need to press this,” Daisy replies, her hand hovering over the touchpad right in front of her.

She hesitates.

Before her stars, beautiful, but also danger, death, emptiness. By her side Coulson, trusting her to save their lives, trusting her implicitly. In a moment they could be dead. This would probably the moment to do something impulsive, but Daisy has never done something impulsive in her life, no really, she’s just really good at pretending she has. She’s not sure she’d know _how_. But - by her side Coulson, and if someone in her life deserves impulsive…

It’s a brief closed-mouth closed-eyes kiss. A proper we-just-stole-a-spaceship kiss. A desperate we-might-die-in-a-few-seconds kiss. A real impulsive out-of-her-hands kiss, tumbling out of her mouth, sucking the air out of Coulson’s lungs.

“What was that?” he asks when she lets go, all calm, as if she hadn’t just planted a big one on him. But Daisy knows him better than to assume calm means he’s unaffected. Coulson does this, always waiting for her lead.

“For luck,” she says, trying to be charming.

There’s a slightly arched eyebrow but Coulson does look a bit charmed.

“We should probably talk about this,” he tells her. “After you get us back to Earth.”

He knowingly accentuates those words, to make sure daisy knows how confident he is she fixed the panel. It makes Daisy feel warm all over in a very familiar way, and it makes her want to kiss him again, in a non-entirely unfamiliar way, even if she didn’t know what it meant before.

“Yes,” she agrees to the plan. “I like talking to you.”

“Me too.”

Daisy realizes she has failed at being impulsive again. At least she tried, that wasnew.

“I didn’t do it because I thought we were going to die,” she adds, because she needs to clear up that one bit. “I did it because you believe we are going to live.”

Coulson reaches out and grabs the side of her head for a moment. His thumb draws an almost-familiar line down her cheek.

It’s an open-mouthed surprise of a kiss. Daisy wonders if it’s impulsive for him. He’s not good at that, either, she knows. He’s good at this though. Sucking on Daisy’s tongue for a second, pressing his bruises against her face, the Princess Leia type Han Solo-ing this moment for her.

She smiles. “What was that for?”

Coulson tils his head, smug.

“ _Twice_ the luck,” he says.

She can’t argue with that.

She gives him an inquiring look, an invitation to hold his breath. He nods, as ready as he can be.

Daisy touches the control pads. The stars before her, Coulson by her side. She holds her breath, _here we go_. A few seconds later she smiles. She guesses she has _technically_ stolen a spaceship now.


End file.
